Sawyer's new BFF is ballet class.

sorry these pictures all stink. photographer friends: how does one go about getting good picture with this equation: quick shutter speed necessary due to dancing toddler + spotlights that are too low or too hot depending on where she is standing + my complete and utter hatred for using my flash + my photography stupidity = crappy pictures. I know just enough about photography to know that I don't know anything. Just enough to know that after taking 3 actual-factual photography classes & inadvertently surrounding myself with AMAZING photographers, I really should understand these things by now.
grrrrr.
moving on.
Sawyer is delightful at ballet. LOVES her class. Adores her teacher (she should be sainted, seriously). The only day of the week that she give a fiddler's fart about is Thursday because she knows that it is ballet day. It is so fun to see her tell me to "go 'way, mom" when she arrives at class. If by fun I mean "simultaneously gut-wrenching yet ridiculously proud-making", then yes, so fun. I remember when I was little, waiting for my ride to ballet, sitting on this really funky ergonomically correct computer chair, envisioning myself kicking my teachers pounding stick out from under her feeble hand and watching her go down. Hard. You see, she had this cane kind of thing that she would pound on the floor to count out the beat for us, you know.... and a one and two and three... that kind of thing. It was absolutely menacing. Awful place. Dreadful woman. I am so glad that Costco came & destroyed the building that it was in. The only reason I stuck with it as long as I did (probably one whole year) was that I really liked the fancy costumes we wore for recitals. Actually, it just so happens that I have photographic evidence of their awesomeness right here! Check it out. I freaking LOVED that dress! The satin was sooo soft & the sparkles were very sparkle-y, a nice combination of textures, even at that tender age, I knew it. That thing was pure magic. I should really post more of those lovely pictures from the eighties. I have a feeling that I will be delving into that folder more frequently, so yeah, there's something to look forward to. To summarize
1) I suck at photography
2) My daughter is an amazing bundle of pure joy and thank goodness she is related to Grandma Miller in the dance department.
3) Why was I not allowed to dance in proper dancing shoes? Grandma Miller? What is up with the tight-foot? Surely I would have been a prima ballerina by now if I had been given the proper equipment.